Jack
by hero-lynn
Summary: There was a reason everyone called him Jack. Not Kelly. Not Jack Kelly. Just Jack. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, so a little while back I was re-reading this story and I had a couple of other short Newsies stories, so I decided to mush them all together into one big one! This still follows the main storyline of 'Jack', just with some more story to it. Someone made the comment earlier too that the ending was a bit abrupt so I hope this fixes that a little bit. I don't have time to go through and answer all the reviews again, but here ya go, a big story now. It's a lot longer, and hopefully a lot better. I'll be posting this in bits, so you'll have to wait for a little more!**

**Enjoy, and leave a review if you like it! I'll be back with more soon!**

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"It's _not_ Jack Kelly," Jack bit back harshly, harsher than he intended. He wasn't actually mad - he could never be mad at Crutchie - but he couldn't hold back the outburst. As soon as the anger came it faded away as he stared at the shocked face of Crutchie, and his voice softened. Crutchie was just trying to introduce him to the new kids on the block, but no one saw the slight twitch Jack held back as Crutchie called out his name. No one knew any better.

"Sorry, Crutch. It's… been a long day." Jack ran a hand over his face, trying to ignore how bad he must've looked. It wasn't a lie, but he wasn't exactly being truthful either. It hadn't just been a long day, it had been a long couple of _weeks_. It was in the heat of the summer, which wasn't like what he imagined Santa Fe summers were like, but it got decently hot. Normally, it wouldn't have been so bad. Jacobi's always had cool water and ice in the back for particularly hot days, and the high ceilings and makeshift fans of the lodging house made sleeping generally cool and comfortable.

That would usually be the case. But this month had brought an onslaught of heat waves over New York, and it had made the newsies miserable. The pressure of Wiesel and increasing temperatures made it hard for Jack and the rest of the newsies. Jack did his best to provide for his boys, always had and always will. He would never leave them. Even when the time was rough, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his boys. The heat had been draining the energy out of the boys, leaving low morale and high tension between everyone. Everyone was on high alert, snapping at each other whenever someone gave something as simple as a wrong look. Jack had stopped three fights in the last week alone.

_The last time tensions had been so high was last winter and his most recent stay in the Refuge. Right at the beginning, the lodging house radiator had gone out, leaving the newsboys to provide for themselves. Sooner than later, the lodging house dropped to freezing temperatures at night making it nearly impossible to sleep. Jack had given everything he could, extra clothes and blankets to anyone who didn't have enough. Jack would've given them the clothes off his own back if Crutchie hadn't stopped him. So he was left with his one ratty jacket and a holey blanket. Did he complain? Not once. As long as his boys were doing ok, Jack was doing ok_

_Then supplies ran out. Blankets were worn through until they were mere threads, and the food all but ran out. So when the temperature dropped even further, Jack didn't hesitate to steal some food and blankets to keep warm and fed. All he needed to do was get the stolen goods to the hands of one of his newsies. If his newsies got it, they could bring it to the lodging house for everyone else. That's all that mattered._

_It didn't even matter that he got arrested and sent to the Refuge right after he passed off the merchandise. It didn't even matter that he was told he'd never see the light of day again, much less his newsies. It didn't even matter that he was sentenced to six months in that rat-infested hole in the ground, the same hole that haunted his days before and would cause even more nightmares to come. It didn't matter that the three months he spent there was the worst he had ever seen. All that mattered was that they would have some food and clothes, at least while he was gone. And the instant he saw his chance for escape, he broke out on Roosevelt's carriage and got back to his boys._

_When finally he got back, things were different. Nothing noticeable at first. But it was the little things. All the boys seemed a little taller, a little stronger, a little more tired. Race was tired. Jack saw that first. The bags under his eyes showed the weariness that Jack normally would normally bare. When Jack had stepped back into the lodging house in the dead of night he found Race sitting at one of the tables, head in his hands. He had jumped up at the sound of someone walking up and was surprised to see Jack standing in front of him. Race froze, stuck like a deer in headlights. Jack smiled gently, hoping the boy ignored his beaten and nearly broken appearance. As soon as Race found the power to move he jumped at Jack, grabbing him in a tight hug and not letting go. Jack let him, and he lost track of how long they stood there. As Jack gently ran a hand through Race's hair he could almost feel the stress fade away. Race closed his eyes and melted into the simple relief that was Jack. Race had done his best, but he wasn't Jack. He wasn't used to all of the responsibility, taking care of everyone. Once Jack was there, everything was better. _

_It didn't take long for the newsies to notice something different as well. Nothing noticeable at first. But it was the little things. Jack was a little more tired, a little more paranoid, a little jumpier. Crutchie saw that first. He wasn't as warm as the Jack Crutchie knew. He was more closed off, angered easily, even at the small things. Crutchie could walk up behind him, but as soon as he could touch their leader's shoulder, Jack would flinch and jump back. He'd laugh it off, but Crutchie knew it was different. Crutchie was determined to figure out what was going on, and he wasn't opposed to doing it the hard way. _

_One of those days not long after he had made it back from the Refuge, Jack had stayed back in the lodging house while the other newsies went out to sell. He didn't head up to his penthouse in the sky but stayed in one of the bunk beds. Jack thought he had been alone, but Buttons had been sick so he stayed back to rest and also ran a mission for Crutchie. When Buttons was certain Jack didn't know he was there, he faked being asleep and watched carefully as Jack sat down heavily on his bunk. Slowly and agonizingly Jack had started to pull his shirt off, pausing halfway through to catch his breath. Buttons could barely hold back his gasp when Jack finally got his shirt off completely. Left was his white undershirt and suspender straps hanging at his sides, but that's all Buttons needed to see. Bruises littered Jack's shoulders and upper arms, conveniently covered by his everyday shirt. There had been distinct bruising on Jack's face when he had shown back up, but it had started to fade away. This… was different. Buttons couldn't believe his own eyes when Jack lifted up his undershirt to see a slightly red-stained gauze pad just off to the side of Jack's right shoulder, plus even more bruising. Eventually, Buttons must've made a noise because Jack suddenly looked in his direction and Buttons ducked under the covers just in time. The next time Buttons saw Crutchie and Race, he told them what he saw, watching their faces twist in concern and even anger. _

_Jack had taken off guard when Crutchie and Race confronted him not long after, demanding to see what happened. He had brushed it off at first, but when Race had grabbed his arm to keep him from turning away, Jack had flinched instinctively, pulling away as fast as he could. Only then did Jack finally realize that he couldn't keep hiding and told them everything. It was obvious they were shocked at the torture Snyder was willing to do, but they listened to every detail. After that, Jack had gotten better. Slowly, one step at a time. But still, since then there was just one thing he couldn't get over. _

"Jack? You alright?" Crutchie asked, his sweet and innocent snapping Jack out of his daze. Jack shook his head, glancing to see almost every newsie staring at him in wonder. For a breath, Jack couldn't remember where he was. He unconsciously shivered, remembering the cold that chilled him to the core. But he felt the sun on his face and sweat drip from his forehead. He wasn't with Snyder, he was outside with his newsies.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Whaddya staring at, fellas?" Jack called out, spurring the frozen newsies into motion. Everyone moved, except for Crutchie. He continued to stand in front of Jack, a concerned smile on his face as he studied Jack.

"What? I said I'm fine," Jack protested, and Crutchie just chuckled.

"Sure ya are, Jack." Jack opened his mouth to protest, but Crutchie had already turned away. As he limped away, he glanced over his shoulder. "Tomorrow'll be a better day." Crutchie, ever the optimist, could see the sun peek through on the cloudiest day.

"Of course it will," Jack lied through his teeth, sending a smile to Crutchie, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to lie to the kid but rarely was it a better day. Just one struggle after another. But they would get through it. They always did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, part 2 is up! This gets a little more into the story now and definitely into the action. The next chapter will be out tomorrow!**

**Leave a review if you like it! Enjoy!**

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"Alright Newsies, pack it up! Let's head home!" Conversations tapered out around Jack as the newsies dropped and paid for their leftover papers. With memories of the Refuge haunting his headspace, Jack slammed his leftover change on the barrel extra hard, Wiesel sneering after him

"I'd watch that attitude if I was you, Jack Kelly," Wiesel said, snapping his fingers. In a blink of an eye, the Delancy brothers materialized out of thin air and jumped in front of Jack, blocking his path. Jack met their eyes, pulling himself up to his full height. Even with all three of the boys of equal height and build, Jack knew he could take them. He'd done it before, he'd do it again. This time, Jack didn't miss the slip of Oscar's hand into his pocket, pulling out his beloved pair of brass knuckles.

"Yeah, ya know how dangerous these streets get at night, don'tcha, Kelly?" Morris taunted, taking a step forward until he was almost nose to nose with Jack. Jack prayed that Morris didn't notice the tiny wince but held his stance firm.

"Back off, fellas," Jack growled, "tonight's not the night."

"Oh, well in that case," Oscar sneered, a creepy smile slowly spreading across his face. "Right this way, _ya majesty_." Jack duplicated his smile and walked through the makeshift opening they had created for him, keeping his fists tightly balled at his sides. He didn't need to start any fights tonight. Once Jack was sure the Delancys were far enough away, he let out a sigh of relief. Another crisis averted for the time being.

Everyone made their way to the lodging house, but Jack had one more piece of business to attend to. He jogged over to the two new kids, who hung in the back awkwardly. Jack knew the feeling. Hawking the pape was hard to get used to, but it didn't take long to warm right up to it. Jack had been careful to keep the kids under his watch and helped them all the papes they could. Rarely did any new newsie sell all his papes the first day, besides Jack of course. There were legends shared throughout newsies all over New York about the big ones, Jack and Spot Conlon. They were modern-day gods for the poor orphan boys living on the streets. Just like Crtuchie said, the chance to sell with Jack was the chance of a lifetime.

"Good day out there fellas, let's get you's some food and a place to spend the night," Jack said while he divided up his portion of the money and shoved it in his bag. Jack turned and waved over his shoulder, intending for the new kids - David and Les - to follow him. He paused when there wasn't an answer and he didn't hear anyone walking behind him. David stood back holding Les's hand awkwardly, making no motion to follow Jack.

"Ya coming?"

"Oh no, thanks," David rejected politely, leaving Jack with his mouth hanging open like a fool. What newsies turned down food and a place to sleep? Before he could ask, David continued without prompting. "We've got to get back home. Our folks are waiting on us for dinner." If Jack had been surprised before, it was doubled now. The carefree, lazy mask Jack kept on all the time slipped, just a fraction, and David looked alarmed. Suddenly, that didn't feel like the right thing to say.

"Oh. You's got folks," Jack said somewhat dejectedly, and the situation was made one hundred times more awkward with the silence that followed it. David tugged on Les's arm to get them out of the silence, but he wasn't fast enough for the curious little ten-year-old with no filter.

"Don't everyone got folks?" Les asked, bright and innocent and confused. He didn't think before he spoke, not when he just spent the whole day lying about the headlines. Besides, he was barely ten. Who was he to think about the implications of such a simple question? Jack forced a fake smile, put back on his mask, but David saw right through it. David pulled Les backward, keeping a tight grip on the littlest newsies' shirt. David tried to make up for the silent situation with an offer he had been debating anyway.

"You're welcome to come home with us, our mom's - "

"No, no, it's alright," Jack stammered, shaking his head and cutting David off. He appreciated the offer, really. But words couldn't seem to form, and Jack didn't know how to answer. He stepped backward, his fight or flight response going with the familiar: _flight_.

"I'm sorry, I just remembered I gotta go meet a… buddy and…" He dropped the end of his sentence, running out a reasonable enough lie. He stared at his feet as they continued to move backward, out of his control now. Eleven years of being a newsie, five years of being the Manhattan leader, Jack learned to keep things under control. He had to, for the sake of the boys. All those years and he got flushed one time someone brought up family.

"Is that the guy you're meeting?" Les asked sweetly, pointing to a shadow sneaking around the corner of a nearby building. Dark suit blended in with the shadows bouncing off the walls and the side of the man's face lit up by the dying light of the streetlamp. Not enough to recognize a stranger, but Jack knew that face from anywhere.

"_Snyder,"_ His name came out as a growl as Jack tightened his fists around the neck of his newspaper bag, strangling it. Snyder stepped out into the light, shadows hiding his eyes and light gleaming off bared teeth. Snyder lifted up his club and pointed it at Jack in a mock salute.

"Kelly!" Snyder growled back with the same intensity. That's all it took. Jack had been able to ignore it earlier, brushing it off as his boys or just taunting threats from the Delancy brothers. But this was where it all started, the root of his fear. He would never admit it out loud, not even on his dying breath, but Jack was _scared._ He couldn't help but flinch, muscles freezing and keeping him fixed in his spot. Blood pounded in his ears and his mind screamed at him to run but the rest of his body wouldn't cooperate. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him backward, away from Snyder and away from his fear. That was enough to snap him back into reality and turn in time to see the open-mouth, wide-eyed face of Les. Jack saw one look of that poor, scared kid's face and adrenaline took over.

"David, run!" Jack shouted, grabbing Les by the arm and shoving David forward. Practically throwing Les towards his older brother, Jack gave them as much of a head start as he could. David and Les ran off as Jack turned back towards Snyder, locking himself in a standoff with the older man.

"You're all mine, Kelly," Snyder grinned while Jack held his arms out wide, taunting him.

"Woah, I didn't know we were that far in the relationship, _sweetheart._" Before Snyder could respond, Jack balled up his newspaper bag and threw it in Snyder's face. Momentarily stunned, Jack took that precious time to knee Snyder in a very uncomfortable place and sprint after David and Les. Catching up with the two other newsboys, Jack couldn't help but let out a small laugh. So much for Snyder the Spider.

"This way," Jack called out, sprinting ahead of the group and turning down a side street. Jack was born and raised on these streets, he knew them like the back of his hand. Duck into an alley here, climb a fence there. Jack had been on the run long enough to know the best spots to stay out of sight.

Jack turned back for a moment to make sure Snyder wasn't running behind them and that David and Les were keeping up. What Jack failed to notice was that Snyder had taken his own shortcut, jumping out in front of the unsuspecting newsboy. David tried to shout a warning to Jack, but he was too late. Jack turned back around just in time for Snyder to crack his club across Jack's face, the boy's head snapping to the side and sending him spinning. David could only watch as he watched Jack falter then collapse in a heap on the ground.

"Jack!" Les cried out, running towards the downed boy. Before Les could get very far, Snyder grabbed him by his collar and lifted him up in the air.

"Gotcha!" Snyder snarled triumphantly, holding the squirming boy. David focused on Snyder, mouth setting in a hard line as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. His face flushed red with rage and his hands balled into fists at his side. No one touched his little brother. He had never been in a fight before, but there was a first time for everything. Regardless, David threw up his fists, dropping back into a fighting stance he had only seen once from a brawl at his school. Before a punch was thrown, David shot a look over at Jack, silently urging him to get up. David may be able to fight Snyder for a little bit, but there was no way he could do it enough to get Snyder to back down. Instead of listening to David's mental pleas, Jack stubbornly stayed sprawled out on the ground, unmoving.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" David taunted - or attempted to - as Les kicked in Snyder's grip.

"Oh, like you?" Snyder laughed a sharp bark that sounded like gravel getting grated into the concrete. It was the worst sound David had ever heard. Trying to shove down the nervousness on what he was about to do, David bounced lightly on his feet to get the energy going. Snyder was amused at the bookish nerd trying to fight him and decided to entertain him. Snyder would give the schoolboy a fight if he wanted one.

"Fine," Snyder accepted, dropping Les and putting up his own fists. As soon as he hit the ground, Les scrambled over to Jack to shake him back awake. Jack had worked himself up to his hands and knees, but that was as far as he got. Les pulled at his shoulder, quickly jumping away when Jack turned his head to spit to the side.

"Jack, Jack, you need to get up!" Les pleaded, pulling at the older boy's hand. "Dave doesn't know how to fight!" Jack groaned as he felt his stomach roll a second time. He had gotten hit before - Snyder could pack a punch - but Jack was completely unprepared for the vicious swing. His head pounded with a fury unknown to him, and it felt like the side of his face was breaking open. It almost was, judging by the red that stained his fingertips when he touched his cheek. He wiped it on his pants and forced his eyes to focus on the fight in front of him.

Jack was surprised, David was actually holding his own against Snyder. He swung occasionally, but he was playing defense. There wasn't much the schoolboy could do against a billy club besides keeping it from hitting him too hard. Snyder was relentless and swung harder each time, with a smile tense across his face. Jack struggled to his feet, using the little help Les could offer to finally stand. For a moment his vision gray and he swayed, really only standing up with a little push from Les. Jack wasn't going to let David fight this for him, this was _his_ fight. Snyder was his.

"_Snyder_," Jack called out, stopping the man mid-swing. David internally sighed in relief. He didn't know how much longer he could've held on. Still frozen with his hands up to stop the billy club, he watched as Jack walked - more like staggered - towards Snyder with his fists clenched. Within a second, that initial relief wore off into concern for the leader of the newsies. Jack was in no condition to fight. David couldn't feel one of his arms and blood dripped from his nose, but he hadn't passed out. David couldn't believe that Jack was even on his feet, not about to start another fight, and he was disgusted at himself for feeling relieved that he didn't have to fight anymore. It was selfish of him, but at the same time, he wasn't about to argue. He could deal with the guilt later.

"How's about you leave them alone?" Jack said, stretching his head from side to side and rolling his shoulders. It hurt unbelievably bad, but David and Les had joined his newsies today, so it was Jack's job to protect them. They were a part of his boys, and Snyder didn't get to touch any of them.

"How about you come back to the Refuge?" Snyder shot back, poison lacing his words. David watched this interaction in awe, just off to the side. His good arm held Les behind his back, and they were backing away as the two men circled. Snyder was pure evil, malice behind his eyes, in the gap of his smile, in the way he held his fists. David couldn't help but shiver. Snyder was evil, but right now Jack looked downright _scary_. He stretched up as tall as he could and his fists were held out in perfecting fighting form. Blood ran down the side of his face and a dangerous glint in Jack's eye that made David think that Jack might actually be able to win.

"_Never_." Snyder brought his club down hard, but Jack caught it and turned his head towards the other boys.

"David, Les, _run_!" David opened his mouth to protest, but Jack shot him a look that meant there was no room for arguing. David grabbed Les's hand and sprinted away from Jack and Snyder. A painful grunt grabbed David's attention once again and turned around in time to see Jack get socked in the stomach. He cringed, but Jack looked up and saw David still standing there and waved them away. He could handle it. He always did.

So David ran.


	3. Chapter 3

**Alright, here we go with the next part! I'm throwing in some last-minute edits, so forgive me for any typos. **

**REVIEWS:**

**Trekkiehood: Thanks! I'm so glad you are enjoying it!**

**Alright, party people, this is short but I'm trying to get you to the story fast. Enjoy!**

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Following Jack's orders, David ran with Les right behind him until they were far away enough from the fight. David ducked into an alley and hid Les behind some old boxes, making sure he was out of sight. Once his back was pressed up against the brick of the building providing some form of grounding, David let out a breath. He didn't want to leave Jack alone, but David wouldn't have been able to fight Snyder. David continuously peeked out around the corner looking for any signs of either Snyder or Jack, but he couldn't see anything. The longer he waited, the more guilt picked away at David before he gave in.

"Ok, Les, I need you to wait here, alright? I'm going to go find Jack," David said, crouching down so he was eye level with his brother as he talked. Les looked up fearfully, breathing heavily as he pulled his knees up to his chest.

"Is he going to be alright?" David let out a sad smile, reaching out and wiping away a stray tear that ran down his little brother's cheek.

"He'll be fine buddy, I promise." David hated lying to Les, but he had no control over the situation. He could only hope for the best. Taking a deep breath, David stepped out from the alley. Dim street lights barely lit the cobblestone roads and David kept close to the sides to avoid being spotted. He didn't know the streets as well as the other newsies, but he had a good memory. He followed the path he had run down, keeping his eyes peeled for others. After a few minutes of walking, David had nearly given up hope that Jack was coming back until he saw a dark figure walking towards him.

David pressed himself up against a wall to hide in the shadows, holding his breath. The figure staggered forward, hidden in the shadows until a small stream of light hit his face. David's own face lit up in recognition and he let out a relieving sigh. _Jack_. David ran out from his hiding place and met Jack out on the street. David didn't miss the reactive flinch and the wild look in his eyes from Jack when David surprised him, but Jack gave a small smile when he recognized the friendly face nonetheless.

Unfortunately, getting a brief glimpse of Jack's condition in the light, David's own smile faded. David knew that Jack wouldn't walk away unscathed, but he was shocked by what he saw. Jack was limping - _hard_ \- and one bloody-knuckled hand was wrapped around his ribs. Not only that, but the hit that knocked Jack out earlier left behind a bloody cut that ran down from his right temple to his cheek, staining half of his face and the collar of his shirt a deep red. David swore softly and Jack couldn't help but chuckle.

"Quite 'a mouth on you, boy." David ignored the jab and grabbed Jack by one arm to move him more in the light for a better look at the injuries. Jack rolled his eyes and waved off David's concerned motions. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine."

The sound of running footsteps put both the boys on edge and they turned towards the direction of the sound. With David's hand on Jack's shoulder, David felt the Manhattan leader tense at the new figure, but David knew who it was.

"Dave, Dave! Did you find Jack?" Les called out, continuing to run towards the two figures. Jack's eyes widened and he stepped back, out of David's reach and back into the shadows. He didn't want the kid to see him all covered in blood. There were some things that a young kid like that didn't need to see right away. Les barreled up to David and he tried to calm the excited boy.

"I did, he's right here. What happened to you staying put?" David scolded, momentary anxiety over the safety of his brother quelled.

"I couldn't wait, you were taking too long," Les complained, turning to the shadowed outline of Jack. "You alright, Jack?" Jack spared a look at David and reached his relatively clean hand to ruffle the kid's hair.

"I'm good, kid." It calmed the kid for now, but Jack knew the longer they waited around, the quicker Snyder would be able to catch up with him. "We gotta get out of here, Snyder'll be back soon." As soon as Jack said it, the three boys heard the whistle of the bulls and shouting of Snyder not far behind them.

David watched in awe as Jack grabbed Les and swung him up on his back, then grabbing David by the arm and taking off running again. When Jack had limped over to him before, David was sure he was going to fall over, but now he was moving like he was pain-free. David had heard of amazing acts of adrenaline, but this was incredible. Even injured David was having a hard time keeping up with Jack, who dodged down alleys and streets to escape the police.

While they started off strong, David couldn't help but notice how Jack kept getting paler as they ran. David was finally able to catch up with him, even pull ahead a few times. Jack's face was drenched in sweat and he was breathing way too heavy. A few too many times David had seen Jack close his eyes while they were running, only opening them a good ten seconds later. He was fading, _fast_.

"Jack," David called his name quietly, tugging on his elbow and bringing them into a dark alley. Jack didn't put up a fight, just followed obediently, too tired to argue. As soon as they were done running, Jack bent down slightly to let Les slide down his back. Once the kid was on the ground, Jack went to straighten back up, only he never got that far. Before he could stand back up again, a wave of vertigo hit him and his vision went gray, knees buckling. Luckily, David had been watching all of this unfold. Jack went limp and fell, but David grabbed him before he could hit the unforgiving concrete. Jack sagged as David gently lowered him to the ground, leaning him against the brick wall in a sitting position.

"Jack?" Les asked quietly, confused at what was going on in front of him. Instead of a response, Jack's head fell forward and his chin hit his chest.

"Les, it's alright, he's just… Jack just needs a minute," David tried to explain without going into detail. But he didn't know anymore than his kid brother did. Jack looked bad, sure, but it shouldn't have been enough for him to pass out. David's best guess? There was more damage to Jack's head than he originally thought. David gently pushed Jack's head up so it was leaned against the brick wall.

The gash wasn't bleeding anymore, but from what David knew about medicine in his books, Jack most likely had a concussion, a bad one. David didn't know what type of medicine they had where Jack lived but if they needed he could get his mom to find some medicine. Concussions that go untreated could be really dangerous, and David didn't want to think about that. It was still dark so David couldn't tell if there was anything else wrong until they got indoors somewhere.

"Jack, come on, wake up please," David said quietly so Les wouldn't hear it. Luckily, Jack did seem to hear him and opened his eyes a minute later, blinking slowly.

"...Dave?" David let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah. You scared us," David said, and Jack suddenly remembered where he was. He glanced over slowly to the tear-streamed face of Les, staring back at him with wide eyes.

"Sorry." Jack sighed and closed his eyes again, not sleeping but trying to hold back the pain. When he opened them David was directly in front of his face, concern written all over him.a

"Davey, gimme some space, wouldja?"

"Sorry, it's just… you passed out on us. What happened?" To be honest, Jack couldn't quite remember. He knew they were running from Snyder, he remembered fighting the man. Jack had gotten some good punches himself, but he had been working at a disadvantage from Snyder's first hit. Everything was blurred and double, so Jack had aimed at the fatter Snyder. He remembered one big hit where Snyder had punched him in the stomach, and from then on it was all a blur. Now his brain was a mess of cobwebs and cotton balls and he couldn't get it sorted out.

"I… don't really remember. I fought 'em, now I'm here. He gone?"

"Yeah, we lost him. How'smyour head?" David asked, trying to get a good gauge of how much pain they were dealing with. Jack shrugged, wincing slightly when David started to prod around.

"Eh, it's alright. Nothing I haven't dealt with before." David raised his eyebrow and Jack matched the look. He wasn't going to budge from that answer. David rolled his eyes. He'd only known the man for a day and he already knew that it was going to be a bear trying to get information out of the stubborn newsie.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Jack rolled his eyes, ignoring the pain.

"Davey…"

"It's David. Can't you say a name how it's supposed to go?" David snapped harshly, regretting the words as soon as he said them. Jack barely reacted, just raised an eyebrow.

"_David_, I'm fine. I don't need to count no fingers, don't need any of that help," Jack said sharply, waving David back and using the wall to get himself into a standing position. The first time didn't work out, and the second wasn't any better. Before Jack could get to a fully upright stance his legs buckled and he pitched forward, only still standing because David caught him.

"Thanks, Davey," Jack mumbled, not missing the glare he received. "David's justa mouthful…" Jack said with half a smile. Davey rolled his eyes but didn't correct him, just shifted his positioning so Jack's arm was slung over his shoulders and was able to stand without falling over. Jack's breath hitched when something in his side stung painfully and Davey noticed, going into concerned mode all over again.

"Jack, are you sure you're okay? I mean that was a pretty hard hit you got, and I know Snyder wasn't holding back anything. I bet you can hold your own and I know some of your boys can, but I mean still that was some big stuff," As Davey continued to ramble on, something struck Jack and his heart skipped a beat.

"Davey…"

"I'm no doctor, but that cut on your head doesn't look too good. Too much blood and head wounds are really serious. They bleed very fast, and there is always the concern of internal damage. I don't even know…"

"Davey…"

"And God knows what else you have, I mean should you even be standing right now? What if…"

"DAVID!" Jack's shout finally shut up the ranting boy. "Stop. Talking. We need to go. _Now_."

"What? Why? Is Snyder back?" Davey asked quietly, frantically staring at the rooftops and streets for any signs for the man. Jack rolled his eyes but he was still moving in painful urgency. Davey just didn't _understand_.

"No, I gotta get back to the lodging house. The rest of the newsies are there, I gotta get back to them." Jack tried to slide his arm from Davey's shoulders, but all of his limbs suddenly weighed an extra ten pounds. As soon as he took a step forward, he grew lightheaded and he closed his eyes to try to get balanced again. Davey followed behind carefully, giving Jack more support when he started to tip again. All of this just gave more evidence for why they _shouldn't_ be going anywhere but a doctor.

"Are you sure? I'm sure they'll be alright, they can take care of themselves. I think we should get you to a doctor. My folks…"

Jack rolled his eyes. "I don't need no help from ya folks, and I don't need no doctor. Just get me back to the lodge." Jack was getting fed up and this conversation was making his pounding headache even worse. He really wasn't in the mood to fight with Davey, he just needed to get back to his boys. Davey started to argue more but Jack shut him up with a sharp look and the voice he only when he was getting the boys in trouble.

"Jacobs. The only time that I's not at the lodging house is when I's locked up in the Refuge. So excuse me if I seem a little _pushy_. You're welcome to come with, but either way, I am getting back to the lodging house. With or without your help." This time, Jack had his balance and he stepped away from the Jacobs brothers and limped out of the alley and back out of the street. Davey was left with his mouth hanging open and an equally shocked Les at his side. Before Davey could try to think about what just happened and the ridiculousness of the whole situation, Les was running to catch up with Jack.

"Well, you comin'?" Les shouted back to Davey as he reached the opening of the alley. Davey ran a hand over his face as Les disappeared out into the street. Reluctantly, Davey adjusted his newsboy bag and ran to catch up with the two other boys, who were chatting quietly as they walked.

Jack led the way back to the lodging house, Les eagerly talking about anything and everything. Jack could barely get a word in, even if he wanted to. But from Davey's point of view, it seemed to be getting harder. Davey had hung back behind Jack and Les, because he didn't know if he was on Jack's good side right then, and he wanted to keep an eye on the Manhattan leader. He hadn't been looking too good before, and keeping up with Les' conversation wasn't covering up any of the pain. Davey figured that the lodging house wasn't far from picking up the newspapers, but running from Snyder had sent the boys to a part of town that Davey wasn't familiar with, so the long walk was taking a toll on all of them.

Davey was sore and his arm hurt. His head hurt almost more than he cared to admit, but he knew it was nothing in comparison to the beatdown that Jack received. Davey knew not to complain, but he wasn't used to fighting. His arm was less numb now, but no numb meant more pain. It started at his fingertips and traveled up his arm. It blossomed in his shoulder and stayed, growing consistently the more he moved his arm. Les was just a kid, his little brother, and it was way too late for him to be running from the law outside. It was already way later than he told his parents they would get back. He would have a fun time trying to explain this to them.

But Jack kept getting worse as they walked. Just like Davey had noticed earlier, Jack started to limp harder. He stumbled a few times, but sleep-deprived Les didn't notice anything and just continued to mumble along. Davey would've barely been awake too, but he was too hyped up on adrenaline and concern to really think about himself. When Jack stumbled for the third time and Davey was sure he was going to hit the ground, Davey ran up beside the older newsie and grabbed him by the arm. Slinging Jack's arm over his shoulder, Davey grabbed Les's free hand and helped him along too. Davey was taking on both of their weight and his body protested it but he shouldered it anyway. A small price to pay for the sacrifices Jack made for them.

"You still never answered my question," Davey asked after a few minutes of watching Jack's head droop, trying to keep him awake. Jack was still vaguely giving him directions back to the lodging house, but other than that he wasn't doing much. Les was practically sleepwalking, but Davey had to let go of his hand to take on more of Jack's weight. A few pushes in the right direction was all Les needed, but Jack was relying more and more on Davey.

"What question?"

"How many fingers I was holding up. You never answered, Kelly." Davey felt Jack flinch ever so slightly, but he couldn't tell from what. Davey vaguely heard Jack mumble something, but he could make out the words. Davey decided if Jack was allowed to give him a nickname, Davey would give Jack one. He never really heard any of the other boys call the Manhattan leader other than Jack, but maybe it was time for a little change.

"'Cause it was too easy. Four." Davey missed a step, causing Jack to stumble with him.

"What?"

Davey shook his head in disbelief and part in amazement and continued walking. "I only held up two." Davey paused and glanced at Jack for any sort of reaction, but there wasn't anything outstanding. "That was a big hit," Davey mumbled, partly to himself.

"Well, I coulda told ya that," Jack chuckled quietly, pointing in the direction of the final turn. Once they made the corner, the lodging house stood in front of them, a few lights trickling through the windows. Through the dim light, they could make out a couple of shadows moving around inside. Jack gave a small smile. _Home_.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm trying to get this all done tonight, sorry it's taken me so long, all of this is ready it's just me working on edits (which take forever...) So hopefully this will all be done soon. This addition to the original "Jack" storyline is a short story I called "Red Paint". You'll know what I mean later.**

**REVIEWS**

**Trekkiehood: Yes, it is a bit of a sticky situation, but they'll get through! Thanks for reviewing!**

**Alright, guys, I hope you enjoy it! **

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The last few feet to the lodging house seemed to be the hardest. Before they could reach the front door, it swung open and a few of the newsies ran - or hobbled - out to greet them. It was all a blur to Jack and suddenly there were hands on him, on his arms, on his face, and he couldn't tell who was who. He heard voices talking, but his concussed brain couldn't keep them all apart. At some point, he slipped his arm off Davey's shoulder and was determined to walk into the lodging house on his own. When he looked down he saw Crutchie's smiling face looking up at him, and he couldn't resist a smile of his own. That kid could always make Jack smile.

"You's alright Jack?" Crutchie asked innocently, his smile never wavering. Jack opened his mouth to answer, a lie, but he couldn't get the words to form. Lying to Crutchie left a bad taste in his mouth. Just out of the corner of his eye he saw Race talking to Davey and both of them turning to look at him equally concerned. Before Jack could process what was happening, the smile slipped off Crutchie's face and hands grabbed Jack by his wrists, tugging in him forward. Jack was only vaguely aware of his own feet moving underneath him, but he wasn't feeling much of anything. He was numb, but Jack couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.

Once they were safe inside the lodging house, Jack was finally able to suck in a tiny, shaking breath. The outside world was locked out, and that was the closest thing to a big strong door to lock the worst parts of New York out. Exhaling slowly, trying to keep the ebbing pain in his abdomen to a minimum, his eyes bounced around the lower floor of the lodging house. It seemed as if every newsie had gathered waiting for him to come back, piling up on some of the bunks or around tables with their anxious eyes all staring at him. Not one for all the attention, Jack looked down at his feet, finally noticing how unsteady he was on his own two legs. He was _tired_. Laying down sounded like a really good idea.

"Jackie, you should probably get checked out with Specs. Davey told me about -" Race broke the general silence across the lodging house and stepped into Jack's vision. Chewing his cigar, Race watched Jack carefully, noting his slower response and how long it took for the leader's eyes to finally focus on him. Nobody was there, but Specs was one of the few who knew how to read and had picked up some medical books a while back. With the rare ability to read, Specs had become the resident doctor for small emergencies.

"Race, I's fine. Just need to lay down for a bit, I'll be better in the morning." Jack pushed past Race and headed towards the bunks. He slept up on the roof to make space for the other newsies to have a bed, but he was sure someone wouldn't mind if he borrowed one for tonight. The newsies parted as he stumbled through the crowd, and he could hear Race and Albert telling the other newsies to go to bed. Some listened, some hung around, but Jack was just ready for some sleep.

Jack tripped over a shoe - probably Spec's - as he limped towards an open bunk and nearly barreled headfirst into the bunk bed, only catching himself with the wooden supports. He leaned forward, forehead pressed against the wood in an effort to catch his breath and steady himself. Already vulnerable, he was caught off guard when someone behind him laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Kelly, you alright? I still think-" Davey never got to finish his sentence. Jack tensed underneath his hand and everything from there moved in a whirlwind. Before Davey could blink Jack whipped around and grabbed Davey's arm, shoving it up behind Davey's back.

"What the -" Davey cried out, caught off guard by the sudden outburst.

"Kelly, what are you doing?" Jack's already pounding heart skipped a beat and sweat dripped from his bloodstained forehead, stinging as it mixed with the blood. His chest tightened and he couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air to satisfy his aching lungs. Why couldn't Davey just stop? Davey couldn't help but let out a pain-filled grunt as Jack unconsciously twisted his arm harder.

"Don't call me that," Jack growled, his face pulled tight in anger and nervous, his voice dropping its edge almost as quickly as it came. "_Please_." Jack let his grip loosen slightly, but he couldn't drop it completely.

From across the room, Race had noticed Jack's initial agitation from the confrontation and he knew it was going to be a long night. Davey was a quick learner, but he was still new and some things took time and experience to learn. Some things couldn't be learned through a book or a worksheet. Most of the newsies knew the different things that set each other off, but everyone had different experiences and a new kid like Davey didn't know any different. All Race knew was unless Davey wanted to get stomped to the ground, Race needed to butt in, _fast_.

"Hey, fellas, what's happenin'?" Race asked nonchalantly, moving the cigar from its place hanging out of his mouth and sticking it over his ear.

"Get him off me," Davey hissed, his arm starting to cramp painfully. Race had seen situations like this play out before, and they could go south fast. Race saw Jack's eyes wildly look around the room as if searching for an invisible threat. His chest heaved with every breath, and if all the injuries that Davey described were there, it would be very painful to do so. Race slowly lowered his hands until they were slightly out from his side and hands open so they saw his palms. Slow, deliberate steps forward caught Jack's attention and he flinched slightly, making eye contact with Race.

"Hey, Jack," Race said quietly, continuing to move towards the two of them. No fast movements, nothing to make it seem like he was a threat. All the newsies had different stories, different backgrounds, different fears. Almost all of them had been to the Refuge, some a few times. The night back was the worst. Screams filled the air and the other newsies could only sympathize. The newsies knew that Jack had been there more than anyone else, and a place like that could change a man. They all came back with this look in their eyes, haunted and scared. Jack had that same look now, but it had been a little while since his last trip to the Refuge. Something had spooked Jack, but Race didn't have a clue to what it was.

"You's alright, Cowboy, just focus on me, Jack. You's fine," Race made sure to use only the names that newsies called him, keeping it all familiar. Once he was close enough, he wrapped his hand around Jack's wrist and pulled it from Davey's arm. Once Davey was free, Race grabbed him by the back of the collar and pulled the boy around behind him. Race continued to calmly talk to Jack, who had brought his hands back down by his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists. The pattern was supposed to calm him, but the wild look in Jack's eyes didn't go away. Race and Jack stood directly across from each other while Davey hung slightly behind Race, clutching his arm.

"See, Jackie-boy here don't care for his last name too much..." Race didn't break eye contact with Jack as he started to explain to Davey what little he knew.

"What, Kelly?" Without even thinking, Davey said it again, cringing when he realized the mistake he just made. Whatever progress Race had made was thrown out the window as chaos let loose. Jack didn't hesitate a moment as he threw a wicked punch towards the sound. Race had just barely dodged the punch and pushed Davey backward to avoid anymore fighting. Davey stumbled and fell on the floor, but made no move to get up. All the newsies stood frozen and watched the fight before them in awe. Jack had been punching wildly before, but now with Race catching the punches, Jack unconsciously turned towards a threat he could actually hit.

Race continued to play defense - he didn't want to switch to offense and accidentally hurt Jack even more. Jack was a good fighter, one of the best, but being tired and injured his swings were at their full power. That didn't mean he didn't get in any good hits. Race blocked most of them, dodged a few more but he couldn't stop all of them. Race took his eyes off Jack for a mere second and when he looked back a fist was flying in his direction. It hit painfully hit home in Race's jaw and he was thrown backward, falling into Davey.

"Back up!" Race shouted as he pushed himself back to his feet, needing everyone else out of the way. All of the newsies had gathered back down to watch the fight unfold, much to Race's dismay. So instead of a small little fight, the entire lodging house was watching them like a dog fight crowd. But this wasn't just some fun sparring. Jack didn't know that he was fighting a brother, and Race didn't want to hurt Jack anymore. Race knew he could take the hits, he's had worse before from the Delancey's and the Refuge. It didn't mean it wouldn't hurt in the morning, but he knew Jack didn't mean it. Jack took Race's momentary distraction to send another fury of punches at the blonde newsie, barely blocking each one. Race faked a few punches to try and get Jack off balance and had to hold back from throwing his own.

"Don't make me fight you, Jack," Race growled gently, knowing that throwing a few punches wasn't going to do anything. It was time to end it. In one smooth movement, Race blocked the punch thrown at him and hooked a leg around Jack's. With a yank, Jack's leg was pulled out from underneath him and he was sent sprawling to the ground. With a thud, all the fight seemed to drain out of Jack and he lay panting on the ground.

Race stood silently over Jack, watching him carefully for any other signs of rebellion. Jack kept his eyes closed as he laid on the ground, and Race instantly switched from on the defensive to concern. He quickly touched his jaw where Jack's punch had caught him and it throbbed painfully. It would bruise, but Race would make up some excuse on how he got it. No need to worry Jack anymore. At some point, Davey walked up beside Race with his mouth opening and shutting like a fish.

"Ya know for a smart guy, you's really an idiot," Race said casually, moving the cigar back to his mouth to chew on it, something familiar.

"Why doesn't he like being called-" Race's eyebrow twitched and Davey changed his wording, "- his last name?" Race shrugged, shaking his head as he shoved the cigar back in his mouth to chew on it.

"Dunno. Only mentioned once 'a twice. Somethin' with Snyder I think." Before Davey could ask for more clarification, Race had walked away and left the boy standing without a real answer.

Race knew that Davey wanted more, but Race didn't know more than that either. If Davey really wanted to know, he would ask Jack himself. And hopefully not screw it up this time. Speaking of their fearless leader, Race crouched down beside Jack and held out a hand, trying to get him up. While Race hadn't really touched him during their fight, Jack still wasn't looking good. Race hadn't seen this much blood on him in a while.

"Alright, up you go, Big Guy. Let's get you checked out," Race said quietly. He shot a look at Albert and JoJo, who jumped into action at the glance. They herded the newsies that had stayed around back to the upper floor. Most of the older newsies had beds on the lower floor and the younger ones on the upper. A few older newsies were in charge of watching the little ones upstairs, and they sent everyone to get ready for bed. If Race was lucky, someone would distract the littles with a story and keep them occupied while Race fought Jack to get Specs to check for major injuries. That was a whole other battle in itself.

Within moments of the newsies disappearing upstairs, Race was fully focused on helping Jack. Jack had used Race's help to get to his feet, but he was standing unsteadily, arm wrapped tightly around his midsection. Race was trying to coax him forward into a chair someone had magically put out in front of him, but Jack numbly shook his head. If he took a step, he wasn't sure if he could keep his balance. Jack barely heard Race call Specs down, but most of Jack's hearing was drowned out by a buzzing that filled his head. The buzzing was then replaced with pounding, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. Race appeared in his vision again, concerned eyes looking up at Jack's. He was saying something, but Jack couldn't make out the words. He felt a hand on his shoulder - Race's hand - and he tried to focus on the contact, but he felt himself fading. A sharp sting that hadn't bothered him in a while came back in full force underneath his hand. Almost instantly he was aware of every little pain and scratch on his body, and the sudden awareness hit him with a wave of dizziness. He lost his footing and staggered backward, catching himself just in time.

"Jack?" Crutchie asked, magically appearing in front of him. Jack reached out and grabbed Crutchie's shoulder like a lifeline, the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Jack…" Race said, more concerningly. Something was going down. Jack didn't answer, didn't say a word, just looked down at his vest and his arm wrapped around it. The stinging increased so Jack applied more pressure, only causing another flare of pain. Suddenly, splotches of color around the fabric of his vest caught his eye and he met Race's eyes with confusion clouding his own.

"... I's was paintin'?" Jack slurred slightly, gaze dropping back down to his stomach.

"What?" Race practically shouted, equally as confused. Crutchies' and Race's face were both etched in concern while Jack still stood confused, trying to remember the last time he had used red paint. When Jack pried his hand away from his stomach, Jack's entire palm was stained red. Jack glanced back up at Race who was staring open-mouthed

"Tha's not paint," Jack mumbled before his eyes rolled back into his head and his knees buckled. Race swore loudly, diving down to catch Jack seconds before he hit the ground. Race grunted under the extra weight and struggled to get a better grip while watching the now visible bloody patch on his side.

"Clear a bed!" Race shouted, lifting up the Manhattan leader bridal style, trying to keep him as still as possible. Jack's head rolled back onto Race's shoulder and his arm hung limply off the side. The newsies scattered and made way for Race as he sprinted to the nearest open bed, laying Jack down as carefully as he could. The littles had finally settled upstairs and Race sent ones that weren't needed then to their beds. Race hovered beside the bed while Specs started looking over wounds and calling out supplies he needed.

"Mush, I need' a bunch of clean towels, the cleanest you got. Finch, go get some water and a lot of it. Sniper, I need soap, borrow some from Jacobi's if there ain't enough 'ere," Specs took over, laying out instructions as naturally as he could. Race stood behind him, and he was the only one who could hear the slight shake in Spec's voice as Jack still didn't move from the bed.

"Race, we gotta get the layers off, I gotta see what I's working with," Spec said, just to Race this time. Crutchie was standing on the other side of the bed, anxiously biting at his fingernails as he watched the two other newsies work. He wanted to help, but he wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get the supplies needed in time. For now, he could just be by Jack, for when he woke up. Because he will wake up. He just _had _too.

One by one, Race and Specs peeled off each layer of clothing, wet and sticky from the blood staining the fabric. Once Jack's chest was stripped bare, Specs took over, trying to stay objective as the other newsies brought the supplies he needed to clean. Specs talked himself through it as he worked, washing the dried blood away from the wound to get a clear view of the wound. From what Specs could tell it wasn't too deep, but it was long. It started from just underneath his bottom rib on Jack's right side and cut along his hip. It was long and ugly and definitely not something that he should've been hiding. Specs was slightly pleased to see the blood flow already slowing, but dirty sheets and a dust-filled building was not the best thing to keep it healthy.

Specs concentrated as hard as he could as he cleaned the wound and instructed Race to put pressure on the towel on the gash. It would work for the moment, but Specs knew this wasn't something he could deal with; they needed a real doctor. While Race kept the pressure on, he couldn't keep his eyes off Jack's chest. All the newsies were generally pretty dirty and occasionally a bit beaten up -occupational hazards when they worked with the Delancy's - but Jack was a whole mess of black and blue bruises. It was painful to look at, but Race couldn't stop.

"Race, I need you to put more pressure on it, we need to stop the bleeding," Specs whispered when Race seemed to let up on the towel slightly. Race pushed harder, wincing when Jack let out a small moan. He whispered his own apology as Specs cleaned the cut on the side of Jack's face. Specs wanted to say that Jack looked better with all the blood wiped away, but he would be lying.

"There's not a lot more I can do, we need a real doctor. I don't know how ta fix his side. Snyder got 'em good." Specs called out to the newsies around Jack's bed. "Mike and Ike are the fastest, send them to get Medda. She knows Jack, she'll know what to do." Race relayed the instructions and less than a minute later Mike and Ike sprinted out of the front doors of the lodging house, off to get some real help. As the door slammed behind them, Race looked up at Specs who wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"What are we suppose ta do while they get her?" Race asked, glancing down at his own bloodstained hands.

"Nothin', not until they get Medda. We gotta keep the pressure on it, fo' sure," Specs said plainly, almost dejectedly. Jack still wasn't answering or making any notion of waking up now, but once he did, he would be in a lot of pain. That's not something the rest of the newsies needed to see. Specs just prayed that the littles would be asleep by the time the doctor came, in case things went south. Specs continued to wipe away the blood from Jack's face and grabbed a bandage to place over the cut on his cheek. Specs took note of everything he saw, trying to be best prepared to give good information when a real doctor came. Race continued to push on the towel, but he was torn. The more he pressed down, the more blood stopped leaking. On the other hand, the harder he pushed the more Jack moaned unconsciously. Race started to notice more twitches and occasionally his head shaking from side to side. He was waking up. Race glanced up at the door across the room, still shut from when Mike and Ike left. They needed to hurry up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, so this is the last chapter! I hope you guys have enjoyed the story so far, I know I've had a lot of fun. It was kind of a side project for a while because the original "Jack" storyline was already on here, but I liked adding more. In total two other short stories that were added here were called "I'll Always Come Back" and "Red Paint". Maybe one day I'll post them separately on my account, but I don't know. Anyway, back to the story. I've had a fun time writing this, and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it! I know I'll be back with more newsies stories, this is such a fun fandom to write for!**

**Leave a review, tell me what you think! Enjoy!**

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"I's sorry, Jack," Race whispered to the Manhattan leader as Race continued to apply pressure and Jack tried to twist away, thrashing. He shook his head violently, lips forming silent pleads, but Race didn't let up. Race's heart skipped a beat when he heard a sound he had never heard from Jack ever before. He _whimpered._ Jack was their leader, he made it through violent winter and sweltering summers, he faced the Delancey's with a grin, he could even stare down Snyder. He had come back from the Refuge beaten, broken, but the newsies never had a clue. He put on a brave face whenever times got tough, being the leader, the man they all needed. What they tended to forget was Jack was just a boy, just like all of them. Race looked up at Crutchie on the other side of the bed who has tears shining in his eyes. Jack's hand shot out, grabbing at air until it found purchase at the bedsheets he was laying on. He pulled at the sheets as he moaned, legs moving and stretching around to try and relieve the pain.

"Hey, hey, hey Jack, it's Crutchie. It's alright Jackie, it's all good," Crutchie said softly, grabbing at Jack's hand with his own as he sat on the edge of the bed, letting his crutch lean against the bed frame. Jack squeezed Crutchie's hand tightly, but Crutchie didn't make a sound.

"You's alright, Jackie," Race said next, and Jack calmed down in the slightest. A second later, Jack's eyes slowly blinked open, staring at the top of the bunk bed before finding Crutchie, Race, and Specs staring back at him.

"... happen'd?" Jack croaked, voice breaking in the middle and eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"That's what we wanna know. You's was out with Davey and Les and then yous was here, bleeding out on us," Race explained what they knew and in a flash, Jack seemed to remember everything and he sat up, leaning against his elbows.

"Les and Davey, they's alright?" He asked anxiously, looking around the lodging house. In the corner he spotted the two of them, Davey sitting at a table across from Buttons in quiet conversation while Les laid back in Davey's lap, asleep on his shoulder. Jack let out a sigh of relief, before drawing his attention back to his side, which Race was still pressing down on. Moving quickly had not been a smart move.

"Tha's not good," Jack muttered as he saw the red-stained towel at his side, falling back down on the pillow. White-hot agony shot up his side, blinding out any other pain he was feeling as he grit his teeth. He didn't pass out - there was too much pain for the blissful ignorance of unconsciousness - then there were hands on his face, poking around. Someone put just enough pressure for Jack to gasp and open his eyes wide, staring at the face of a young man.

"Definitely signs of a concussion. Depending on his pain levels, there's not much we can do for it, he needs lots of rest." Jack didn't recognize this voice, it was new. He didn't like new things. When the white spots had cleared from his vision Jack squinted and realized who the mystery person was.

"Hey Jack, I heard you got into a bit of trouble now, huh?"

"Hey, Buck. No bulls…" Jack mumbled, hoping to shut his eyes and go back to sleep.

"No, I'm not going to call the police. Medda was concerned, she asked me to come over here and make sure you are alright. Is that okay?" Jack opened one eye and gave the doctor a quick once over and barely nodded. Jack had met the young doctor a few occasions in the theater, he was a regular practicing doctor that Medda had on speed dial and sometimes did house calls. A few times Jack had shown up at Medda's door needing help and the good doctor had been introduced.

"Sure Doc… whatever ya need."

Dr. Buchanan went over and talked through all he was doing, though Jack was barely listening. It was more for Race, Crutchie, and Specs who were listening anxiously. He wrapped up Jack's left knee where there was some slight swelling, it didn't seem broken or sprained, and Jack didn't rate the pain high enough to be concerned. A tight wrapping and instructions to keep off it would keep the pain lower for the time being. A few thin trips of bandages were put along the cut on Jack's cheek to close it, the bleeding slowed completely. Keeping it clean would be the best medicine for that. Working fast on the minor injuries, Dr. Buchanan turned to the more concerning.

"Jack, I'm not going to lie to you, this is going to hurt. A lot," Dr. Buchanan warned. "I need to sterilize the wound, then stitch it. You're going to want something to bite down on." Someone found a spare belt and put it in Jack's hand. Jack glanced warily at the doctor, but followed instructions and bit down on it. Dr. Buchanan pulled out a small black bottle of liquid plus a little kit with some needles and string. He glanced at Jack before continuing, who gave him a nod. Dr. Buchanan glanced at Race as Jack laid his head back down on the pillow, chest anxiously heaving.

"You're going to want somebody to hold him down." The bluntness of the statement caught Race off guard, but he called Albert and Jojo over to hold down Jack's arms and shoulders.

"Jack, I'm going to give you a small dose of morphine that'll help with the pain. It will start working soon, but you are still going to feel this. But I promise, once it kicks in fully, the pain will be much more manageable. It will probably make you sleepy too, but don't fight it. You need the rest." Jack nodded for the go-ahead, and Dr. Buchanan injected a small amount of a clear liquid into Jack's arm.

Dr. Buchanan replaced the needle with the small black bottle, taking a deep breath before pouring the liquid on the bloody wound, instantly creating a reaction. The hydrogen peroxide did its job and cleaned the wound, but its sting was nearly unbearable. Jack screamed into the belt, biting down hard and his back arched, trying to move away from the pain.

"Hold him still!" Dr. Buchanan shouted and Albert and Jojo pushed on his shoulders and Finch jumped on top of his kicking legs, pushing the thrashing Jack back onto the bed. Dr. Buchanan threaded the string through the needle and wiped away access liquid, sticking the needle through skin. Jack moaned as the doctor sewed the wound shut, and a few moments later, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and Jack was out.

The next time Jack woke up, it took a minute for him to process everything that happened. Awareness came to him in bits and pieces, flashes of images here and there. He didn't get the story straightened out until he tried to sit up in his bed and was instantly greeted with a shock wave of pain that washed up his side. It wasn't like what he remembered, but it was enough to get him to lay back down. Jack heard quiet movements beside him and he cracked one eye open to see who was there. He blinked a few times when he found a light in his face, but soon the revolting light was moved away.

"Crutch…" Jack whispered, his voice not able to get any higher than that. It was scratchy and sore, and from what felt like being overused. "...happened?" Crutchie moved the candle to the other end of the table, moving his stool so he could be close to Jack's bed. He was silent for a while, and Jack's eyes wandered his face, looking for any sign of what happened. The last twenty-four hours had been a mess, one that Jack had blissfully slept through. Jack would have been frustrated to find out that he slept for a whole day then some, but everyone knew he needed the rest. Rarely had Jack ever really slept through the night, he was up drawing or helping another newsie who was sick or with a nightmare. Crutchie took a breath and told Jack all the events since they had shown up at the lodging house with Davey and Les the night before.

"Wha' time is it?" Jack mumbled, trying to sit up again, this time making it up on his elbows before he noticed any pain. He glanced down at his torso, which was wrapped tightly with bright white bandages. He picked on them gently, wincing when he hit a sore spot on the gash. There were only tiny little specks of red tinting the bandage, which Jack guessed was a good thing.

"I's think it's 3 in the morning. Most'a the other boys are asleep," Crutchie said softly, lifting the candle up to light up the room. Jack saw the rest of his newsies sleeping soundly around in the bunkbeds around the lodging house.

"Why aren't yous asleep?" Jack asked, glancing back over at Crutchie.

"Well," Crutchie chuckled just loud enough for Jack to hear, "someones gotta keep an eye on you. Besides, I let Davey and Les use my bed." Just like he said, Jack glanced at Crutchie's regular bunk where Davey and Les were sharing a thin blanket. Jack couldn't help but smile when he saw Les pressed up against his big brother and Davey with an arm thrown protectively over Les.

"They's alright?"

"They's fine, Jack. You did good." The two boys fell back into a lapse of silence until Jack started to shift around. Careful of the bandages on his chest, Jack pushed up backward, trying to get up into a sitting position. Crutchie shot forward, balancing on one leg himself as he tried to help his friend.

"Should you really be moving, Jack? The Doc said to keep still…"

"I gotta sit up, Crutch. I'm tired of laying down." Crutchie helped as much as he could to get Jack into the sitting position, his bare back pressed up against the scratchy wood of the bunk bed. Jack took a deep breath, wincing when it stretched his side but let it out contently. It felt like he had been lying down for _years_. When Crutchie stayed silent, Jack glanced at the younger boy again and found him staring at Jack. Specifically, the bandages wrapped around his middle.

"Heya, Crutchie can yous grab me a shirt? It's kinda cold." Crutchie nodded and walked away from Jack's bed to grab him a spare shirt. Jack's clothes were up on the penthouse where he normally slept, so just an old spare from another newsie would work. Jack really wasn't cold - rarely was he - but he didn't like the thought of the other newsies seeing the scars and bruising that tattooed his chest. Every time Jack looked, Crutchie couldn't seem to keep his eyes off the bandage. All it did was mark yet another injury from Snyder, one more ugly reminder.

Crutchie came back quickly with one of Race's old shirts, the only other newsie that was close to Jack's size, and helped Jack put it on. It was a slow and painful process, but Jack got it buttoned up enough so the bandaged was hidden from sight. If you ignored the gash that ran down his face, Jack looked almost normal. He must've closed his eyes for a minute because when he opened them again Crutchie was still sitting there.

"Ya need something?" Jack asked, harsher than he intended but Crutchie ignored the tone. Crutchie started to shake his head, but he stopped himself. There were too many questions and Crutchie didn't want to be left in the dark anymore.

"What happen'd out there? Yous was pretty jumpy." Jack listened closely as Crutchie got even quieter. "We's never seen you like that." Jack sighed, knowing that sooner or later this question would come. He regretted choosing to go back to the lodging house in the condition he was in, but he'd rather be there hurt than leave his boys in confusion.

"I's was trying to get grub and a place for Davey an' Les when _Snyder_ showed up looking for a fight," Jack spat out Snyder's name, face morphing into anger as he recalled the fight. "He started pickin' on Les, I mean he's just a kid? I think he hit me 'cause I remember wakin' up on the ground with Les next ta me. Davey was holding off Snyder, but he wasn't doing great. I took Davey's place and sent them running. I don't remember a lot, but Snyder had somethin' sharp and I didn't think he got me then, but I guess…" Jack looked down at his chest which was now covered so he couldn't see the bandage. But just because he didn't see the bandage didn't mean it wasn't there. Crutchie nodded along, all of that making sense with what they knew. But there had been one thing on his mind the whole time. Before Crutchie could ask his question, they both heard footsteps coming towards them.

"How ya feeling, Cowboy?" Race asked quietly, joining the two of them. Race crawled on and sat on the opposite side of Jack's bed. "Comfy?"

"Not with you on here," Jack cracked, trying to get a smile out of Race. Race was the known prankster, and nearly everything he said was sarcastic. There wasn't much that couldn't get the boy to laugh. Unfortunately, nothing about this situation made Race laugh. Race smiled blandly at Jack's jab and joked back, but not with his usual spark.

"Well get used to it, 'cause you're on my bed and if you ain't nice I'll kick you out." Instead of laughing, Jack realized where he was. Jack never had a bed, he slept up in the penthouse he could make beds for the other boys. There was never enough room anyway, so boys doubled up on the thin mattresses they did have. If Jack was in Race's bed, where was Race sleeping? Race noticed the change in emotions on Jack's face and gave a weary smile that was supposed to be reassuring.

"Don't piss ya pants, Jackie, I's fine. You need the bed more than I do," Race shut off any further argument by waving Jack off. Jack decided not to press the issue further and got a good look at Racetrack. He looked _tired_. Just like he did not so long ago. When Jack wasn't around Race was the one who ran the place, but it took a toll on the kid. Jack was used to it, it was hard, but he had done it for years. Jack was used to taking the weight of the world on his shoulders, Race wasn't. Eventually, Jack would age out and he'd pass it on, but that would be a while. Race ran a hand over his face, yawning and stretching his arms out. Jack would've missed it had not the candle been shining a light on the three of them at that moment.

"Race, was yous in a fight?" Race and Crutchie froze as Jack asked his question, slowly turning to look at each other. Race knew it was a bad idea to come over here, but Crutchie had asked him too. Race turned back to Jack, chuckling slightly.

"Oh, this? It's nothin', I's just roughhousin' around with some of the boys," Race said unconvincingly. He reached up and touched it, trying to prove that it wasn't anything bad, but he couldn't help but flinch when the pain flared. The bruise hadn't had enough time to fully form yet, but it was long enough for it to start to turn purple along the left side of his jaw. Jack raised an eyebrow, clearing seeing through the lie.

"Race, dontcha lie to me. Was it the Delancy's? They's hanging around here?"

"Jack, please…"

"Did you walk into Brooklyn again? Was it Spot?"

"No, Jack…"

"I swear, I'ma kill that Conlon fella, he's…"

"Jack!" Race didn't shout, but his voice was sharp enough to get Jack's attention. "I's said it's fine. It's not any of them, so don't worry about it!" Race was trying to get himself out of the center of attention, but Jack wasn't letting it go. Race looked to Crutchie to try and help, but it was useless. Jack was riled up, and the lies weren't giving him any reprieve.

"Jack, he said he's alright, yeah? Let's just calm…" Those were almost the opposite of what Crutchie should've said.

"No, I won't calm down, someone hit Race I can't let that-"

"It was you, Jack." Race said calmly in the middle of Jack's tirade.

"-what?"

Race sighed and started again. "I's didn't want to tell ya 'cause I know you'd get upset. But yous came back in with Davey and Les and yous wasn't looking too hot so ya tried to lay down, but Davey said… something… and you went nuts. Grabbed him and was freaking out. I's tried to get him out and I's did, he's fine, but then yous… uh… took a swing." Jack's mouth dropped open and shut, unable to find the words he was looking for.

"I did that?" Jack whispered in disbelief, so quiet that Race had to strain to hear him. Race was afraid of this.

"Jack, you didn't know what yous was doing, it wasn't your fault," Crutchie jumped in when the conversation went downhill. But Jack was gone. He ran a shaky hand down his face, just missing the cut on his cheek, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe it. Everything, after they came back to the lodging house, was foggy, but Jack couldn't believe himself. He'd never hurt any of his newsies.

"Racer, I's… so sorry... I don't know what I was doing…"

"Jack, that's the point, it wasn't you. You's weren't really there. Trust me. I saw the look in your eyes. It's not the Jack we know. I promise, Cowboy. I know it wasn't you." Race saw Jack relax slightly as he reassured him there was no harm done. Crutchie shot a glance at Race and Race nodded, giving Crutchie the go-ahead. Jack leaned back into the wall behind him, arm wrapped protectively around his middle. The pain had started back up again, but it was nothing compared to the guilt he now carried. He slipped up, and his slip up led to him attacking one of his own. That was unacceptable.

"You scared us, Jack. What happened there? With Davey?" Crutchie tried again. It was manipulative, taking advantage of Jack when his guard was down, but it was one of the only ways to get any actual information out of the Manhattan leader. Jack was silent as he processed his thoughts, letting the wall down completely. He had already done enough hurt, there wasn't room for more lies.

"Davey… he called me Kelly." Jack said bluntly, but the confused looks on Crutchie and Race's face told him that he still needed to go deeper. "The only person who calls me Kelly is Snyder. Nev'a heard him call me Jack. And when Davey started calling me Kelly, I couldn't get Snyder's voice outta my head. Then Davey didn't stop then I was back in the… I just couldn't do it. I can't stand my own _name_ 'cause it reminds me of what they think I am. Some street rat, some _thief_. Some kid who doesn't deserve the time of day just because he doesn't _have a dollar to his name!" _Once Jack started talking, he didn't know if he could stop. Race and Crutchie hung onto every word, seeing a side of Jack they had never seen before.

"All they's see is Kelly. A penniless, soulless thief that the world chewed up and spit out on the streets to cause trouble. Not just some kid trying to keep other's from _starvin'_ while they work all day for pennies. They don't see the orphan kid who should be going to school or staying home with families. They don't see the kid just trying to get some extra clothes or food for the others, no they just see Kelly, the thief." Race and Crutchie nodded along, finally understanding. They all had grown up on the streets, they knew what it was like.

"Kelly's all my father told me I would be. But I don't want to be like him. I'm not Kelly, not Jack Kelly."

"It's just _Jack_."

* * *

**Whew. We're all done, folks, that's all I've got! I hope you all have enjoyed and I know I'll be back soon with more! If you liked it, tell me what you think, I love reading your guy's reviews! **

**Be Awesome, Stay Hilarious, Trust God and Love Avengers!**

**-avengersashley**


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